


cookies, christmas & Chloe

by bulletproofbackrubs



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/F, Fluff, Gen, Pitchmas Week, merry pitchmas 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 13:10:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5541272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bulletproofbackrubs/pseuds/bulletproofbackrubs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas fluff, basically. </p><p>Beca offers to stay with Chloe in the Barden Bella's House for the Christmas holidays. Mistletoe kisses, maybe?</p><p>My Merry Pitchmas gift to 22-fall-in-love on Tumblr, as well as the rest of the fandom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cookies, christmas & Chloe

In the past few years, Beca has always spent her college Christmases at her dad’s house, spending long, _long_ hours humouring family with their bombardment of personal questions. Every time Beca opens her mouth with the slant of a smirk, a sarcastic answer on the tip of her tongue, her dad gives her a stern look that swipes it away quicker than windshield wipers in the rain. She can’t even humour _herself_ during this whole day long charade _._ So instead she usually wastes away the hours sitting at the kitchen counter distracting herself by drinking litres of lemonade just for something to do, and pretending to watch the _same_ totally cliché and boring Christmas movies and trying not to roll her eyes when various family member say, for the thousandth time, “Oh I love this part.”

 

If there was anything that made this day worthwhile for Beca, it was her Grandma’s cinnamon sugar snickerdoodles. They were just _awesome_ , and even though she eats too many every year and falls into a food coma on the couch, she doesn’t think she’d survive Christmas without them.

 

However, she offers to do just that, when she finds out that all of the Bella’s -- except one -- are going home for a week during the Christmas holidays. Chloe insists that Beca doesn’t have to stay in the Bella’s house with her, that she’ll be fine on her own (“ _It’s only a week, Beca. I’m not going to die,”)_ but Beca is having none of it. Chloe **loves** Christmas. In fact, Beca would go as far to say that Chloe **lives** for Christmas. And the thought of her spending it alone in the big house makes Beca’s heart ache.

 

Not that she gives _that_ excuse, of course. _(“Chloe, honestly. You’d be saving **me** from a week of agony and avoiding questions about my fashion sense. My dad will understand, he likes you more than me. He wouldn’t want you to stay here alone, and probably doesn’t want me there anyway. I’m staying.”) _

 

It’s not a lie. Beca is thrilled to finally to have a decent enough excuse to avoid the downright painful family festivities. But -- if she was tortured to admit, it’s not the primary reason why she decides to stay with Chloe. Even if the thought of being in the house with **just** Chloe for a week makes her stomach twist.

 

Chloe, when she finally accepts Beca’s offer of her company for the holiday, is delighted. “You know, I wouldn’t have bothered with all of this if I was on my own,” Chloe says from her position on the ladder in front of the huge Bella-blue Christmas tree, “but now I get to spend it with you.” She turns around to throw Beca a happy grin where she stands behind the ladder, hands held out half-heartedly in case Chloe falls. Which she won’t, because Chloe has A+ agility and insane core muscles. But she’s also excitable. And Beca worries.

 

“Still, is all this really necessary?” she asks, waving a hand towards the snowflake streamers Chloe had hung from wall to wall. “It’s only a week.”

 

“Yeah, but it’s a week _together_. At Christmas! One last thing,” she says before reaching up on her tiptoes, grasping one hand in Beca’s for balance and using the other to place a crooked angel on top of the tree. Her berry coloured sweater moves up with the motion, revealing a sliver of skin and the dimples in her back. Beca swallows.

 

“There!” Chloe declares proudly. “Now it feels like Christmas.” 

 

It’s not until Chloe twists to step down the ladder that Beca realizes Chloe is still gripping her hand. She untangles their fingers with a cough. “Right. What now?”

 

 

Chloe just smiles, glowing and happy, before pulling Beca by the forearms into the kitchen. She sets her down at the kitchen counter where her laptop sits, before dancing around the island to reach into the cupboards. “You, are in control of music. _I,_ am going to make us eggnog.” Beca complies silently, opening up iTunes.

 

She doesn’t mind some Christmas music (keyword being: some). The cheesy, jingly songs she can do without. And the fact they’re constantly repeated for an entire month and a half. But some she can put up with.

 

And she knows Chloe likes them. Doesn’t need Chloe to tell her this, because as soon as December rolls around Chloe is humming her favourites under her breath **all** of the time. But Chloe has a nice voice, and it makes the songs sound much sweeter and meaningful than they do usually, so Beca doesn’t mind it so much. It probably says something that whenever she hears someone else singing a festive tune, she groans loudly and pleads them to stop before they’ve barely started. She doesn’t dwell on what that something is.

 

She presses play on _She & Him’s _cover of Baby, It’s Cold Outside and can’t resist flicking her eyes up to catch Chloe pressing her lips together in a soft smile when the opening drums start.

 

 

They collapse onto the couch in front of the TV, thighs touching despite the fact it sits four people, and Beca can’t resist a hum of pleasure when she tastes the eggnog Chloe made. “Oh my God, _why_ haven’t you made this for me until now?”

 

“Maybe because we’re always at home for the holidays, and eggnog is reserved-for-Christmas beverage only,” Chloe clarifies.

 

Beca just sighs in reply, resting her head against the back of the couch and lets her eyes flutter shut. Grocery shopping and decorating the house had taken up most of the day. And then right in the middle of making the eggnog Chloe had stopped to pull Beca out of her chair to dance with her when Beca had pressed play on Jingle Bell Rock, ending in a fit of giggles, the kind that are usually reserved for when she’s alcohol induced, which makes Beca _really_ glad the rest of the Bella’s weren’t there to tease her about.

 

Needless to say, she was exhausted.

 

She felt Chloe shift and settle next to her, curling her knees up and resting them and her head on Beca and she felt her lips involuntarily twitch into a smile. Despite having been forced against her will (Beca’s words, not Chloe’s) to wind tinsel around every possible surface, listen to the same Christmas songs she hears ever year and buy more snacks than the two of them would physically be able to eat in a month never mind a week, Beca felt really happy in that moment.

 

If anyone was there to ask, she’d blame the next words to come out of her mouth on the exhaustion mixed with the bourbon in the eggnog, but it didn’t make them any less true when they did. “You’re my best friend, Chloe.”

 

Chloe’s head left her shoulder, leaving the space she made feel cold. She could feel Chloe’s eyes on her, but didn’t dare open her own to meet her gaze. Knew the look Chloe was giving her anyway. A soft, searching look that roams her whole face. She doesn’t even need to see it herself for her cheeks to start burning.

 

A long moment passes before Chloe settles her head back down with a quiet hum. “I know.”

 

It’s pitch black outside when Beca next opens her eyes.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------

 

Two days before Christmas Day, Beca and Chloe sit opposite the coffee table cross legged on the floor in the living room, an unfinished game of chess on the table.

 

“Becs, what’s your favourite thing about Christmas?” Chloe asks, knocking one of Beca’s pawns down with her own.

 

“My Grandma’s cinnamon sugar cookies,” she answers without hesitation, only half paying attention while she scrutinizes the board and calculating her next move.

 

“Wow,” Chloe whistles in surprise. “I honestly wasn’t expecting you, the hater of all things Christmas, to have an answer to that. They must be some damn good cookies.”

 

“Hey! I don’t hate _all_ things Christmas,” Beca answers, swiping Chloe’s knight off the board. “I like my grandma’s cookies and the excuse to drink my dad’s fancy ass wine.”

 

Chloe laughs, and they continue the game in a concentrated silence, since these two Bella’s were the most competitive of the bunch. It had been decided that the loser was in charge of Christmas Day breakfast. Beca had decided that there was no chance in hell she was losing this game, for 1) she hated getting up early, always had, _even_ on Christmas Day 2) she did not like cooking, even though she could (probably better than Chloe). Plus, despite the disgustingly domestic aspect, the thought of Chloe making breakfast for just the two of them on Christmas Day stirred up a combination of smugness and excitement that she didn’t want to let go of just yet.

 

With this in mind, she wins fair and square.

 

And then makes Chloe a hot chocolate to cheer her up, because “I can’t stand your fake gracious-loser face. You look like I just wiped out your entire family tree off the face of the Earth.”

 

Chloe, after copious amounts of begging and pleading, gets Beca to sit with her on the couch to have a Christmas movie marathon. To Beca’s relief, Chloe’s list does not include _Elf_ or _A Miracle on 34 th Street_. Instead, there’s a few she _hasn’t_ actually seen before, and she finds herself watching them with almost complete concentration.

 

The other part of her brain is focused on the way Chloe is absentmindedly playing with her fingers, occasionally brushing the underside of her wrist and drawing Beca’s full attention to keeping her breathing steady.

 

She knows what this is. Why her body reacts this way when Chloe’s around. And sometimes, when Beca is confident enough to indulge Chloe in her flirtatious remarks or says something particularly meaningful, she thinks Chloe feels it too by the coy and contemplative look that always crosses her face. But Beca can’t be sure, because Chloe is her best friend. And Chloe is _Chloe_ , who smiles and makes physical contact with everyone and loves _everyone,_ and Beca can’t let herself think Chloe feels any different towards _her._ Which is why she forces the thought of it out of her body, even if her body itself still prickles with goosebumps every time she feels Chloe’s breaths on her shoulder.

 

She falls asleep sometime during the beginning of Love Actually, only waking up when the credits were rolling and Chloe is tugging on her hand lightly.

 

“Becs, wake up. It’s almost midnight.”

 

Between blinking herself awake and praying that she doesn’t have drool running down her cheek, Beca smells something incredible.

 

“Woah. It’s late. Sorry.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Chloe replied, and Beca couldn’t help but notice the excitement in her bright blue eyes, visible even in the dark of the living room.

 

“Why are you pulling that face? Have you been lighting candles? It smells nice in here,” Beca asks groggily, using Chloe’s hand to pull herself up into a sitting position on the couch.

 

Chloe doesn’t give her a verbal response at first. Just pulls Beca up to stand and drags her over to the kitchen doorway. Before they walk in, Chloe stops and puts her hands on Beca’s shoulders, and Beca blinks in surprise.

 

“Dude, what are you doing? Stop being weird.”

 

Chloe starts chewing nervously on her lip, and Beca instantly thinks something must be wrong because Chloe is never anxious like this. For as long as Beca has known her, Chloe has always emitted confidence as though it ran through her bloodstream. When Chloe drops her eyes to the floor, Beca starts to panic. But before she can ask her anything again, Chloe interrupts.

 

“Okay, so they might not be as good as your grandma’s, but I made cinnamon sugar cookies. And also got a bottle of Stacie’s wine out of the pantry.” Chloe’s fingers flex at Beca’s shoulders, gripping them slightly tighter before continuing and looking straight into Beca’s eyes. “Because, you’re giving up Christmas with your family to stay with me, just because mine are in Florida. And I know you don’t like Christmas all that much but you’ve put up with _my_ Christmas traditions so I thought it was only fair that I tried to give you some of yours.”

 

During her rambling, Beca’s sure her heart enlarges so big that by the time Chloe’s finished, she thinks it might crack on of her ribs in attempt to fly out of her chest. But the anxious look on Chloe’s face is still there, as if she’s apprehensive about doing such a lovely thing for Beca, but Beca wants it to disappear because _oh my God, how can anyone be this wonderful?_

“Chlo, slow down. Stop worrying,” Beca shushes, and timidly places her hands on Chloe’s waist in hope it’ll comfort Chloe a little even if it makes her mouth feel dry. “Thank you. What you did was amazing, and really not necessary. I _chose_ to stay here with you –“

 

“—Yeah, exactly –“

 

“Hey, I listened to your rambling!” Beca scolds playfully. “I chose to be here because I wanted to be here. With you. On Christmas. Even though you _are_ the Queen of all things Christmas,” she says, and Chloe’s grin spurs her on, letting her grip her hands a little tighter. “Even if Christmas at home _didn’t_ suck, I’d have much rather stayed with you.”

 

Thankfully, Chloe is smiling and looking relieved, so Beca can forgive the fire-truck red hue of her cheeks for the time being. As long as Chloe keeps looking at her like _that._ She smiles back, unable to hold it in because, Beca thinks, this is the nicest Christmas she’s had in years.

 

They haven’t moved positions, even though they’ve both finished their speeches. Chloe’s hands have moved to play with the ends of Beca’s hair, and Beca’s eyes can’t help but follow Chloe’s when they lift sheepishly up to the doorway.

 

Mistletoe.

 

Beca’s breath catches in her throat and she’s almost sure Chloe hears, because her eyes snap down again to Beca’s. Chloe’s lips quirk slightly into a smirk, and she moves her hands across Beca’s shoulders to meet the skin between her neck and t-shirt.

 

“Well, if you don’t mind… I may have just one more tradition to ask you to put up with.”

 

At that, Beca’s heart slingshots from its place pressing against her ribs and straight into her throat, but it doesn’t stop her from whispering, “You don’t even need to ask.”

 

Her hands circle from Chloe’s waist and around her back, pulling her closer with the motion and Chloe’s move to behind Beca’s neck. And suddenly they’re kissing, and Beca breathes a sigh of what could only be described as relief into Chloe’s mouth. It invokes a response that has Chloe pushing forwards until Beca’s back hits the doorway and Beca’s hands automatically grip Chloe’s shirt tighter.

 

When they finally pull away, faces flushed and lips red, Beca thinks that was the best Christmas present she has been, or will ever be given. She surprises herself when she’s the first to speak.

 

“Merry Christmas Eve, Chlo.”

 

“Merry Christmas, Beca.” The way her voice sounds, husky and happy combined with her blown up black pupils amidst the baby blue of Chloe’s eyes, has Beca tugging Chloe in again if only to stop her knees from feeling weak.

 

She loves cinnamon sugar cookies and she can’t wait to try Chloe’s. But she’d rather taste vanilla chapstick and smooth skin for now.

 

Or forever, you know. Whichever.


End file.
